


Detention

by PrettyMessedUpSituation (MarcelinesNightosphere)



Series: Drabbles and Ficlets from Prompts [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bisexual Dean, Detention, Drabble Collection, F/M, M/M, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 19:16:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4112002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarcelinesNightosphere/pseuds/PrettyMessedUpSituation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has detention -as usual- but this afternoon's events are unexpected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Detention

**Author's Note:**

> Written on a prompt by [mishabethyname](http://www.mishabethyname.tumblr.com).  
> Rebloggable version [here](http://prettymessedupsituation.tumblr.com/post/121167421978/prompt-hs-au-detention-first-meeting-deancas).

This was bullshit.  
Excessive tardiness? Okay. Skipping class on multiple occasions? Sure. Cheating in shop class? Utter. Bullshit. It was rebuilding a carburetor, not detailing the schematic for a rocket engine. Not like he couldn’t have done that either, not like he was asked. Dean slid into his usual desk at the back of Mr. Barnes’ classroom after school, too pissed off at the insinuation that he couldn’t have put together that carburetor by himself to even wink at Rhonda Hurley – who happened to have detention for a week because she was caught coming back onto campus late after taking too long of a lunch with Dean. He’d escaped getting caught himself since he was late to shop and had gone in around back, but Rhonda had been a good friend and didn’t rat him out. Much like when she listened from behind the open door to the janitor’s closet while he explained what he was doing in there…alone. She had smiled at him when he walked in, but saw the agitation on his face and let him be. He liked Rhonda. They understood each other. She turned her attention to a jock in the seat in front of her and Dean stared at the board, drumming on the desk.

Five minutes passed and the bell rang. Bus riders were gone, sports kids were in the locker room, theater kids – which included his brother Sam – were practicing Godspell. Dean was already bored. He turned his gaze to Rhonda’s legs, but was interrupted by a knocking on the open door.

Mr. Barnes stood. “Yes, can I help you?” He was a thirty-something History teacher with glasses who was too nice for his own good, getting stuck with detention duty five days a week. Patience was something he had in abundance.

The kid stood tall, but his shoulders rolled forward in a slump, rigid like he was held together by tension. Dean had never seen him before. Rhonda looked back to Dean for any clues, but he could only shrug. The kid spoke softly to Mr. Barnes and handed him his detention slip. Mr. Barnes nodded to the empty seats in the class. He slung his bag over his shoulder and moved down the aisle next to Dean, taking a seat against the wall.

Rhonda turned and gave Dean a wink, and he teasingly glared at her. He still hadn’t got a good look at the kid, but Rhonda’s wink made him think they guy was at least moderately attractive. At least an eight. His curiosity was piqued.

Dean drummed his fingers nervously. He wanted to say hi or something, but detention isn’t the best place to try to pick people up despite what movies and television say.

“Dean,” Rhonda whispered. Dean looked up to see Rhonda’s legs, and what legs they were, pushing a note toward him with her shoe. He slid it under his boot and picked it up.

> _Say the fuck hello my god_

_Easier said than done,_ he thought. Dean tried to glance nonchalantly over his shoulder, not wanting to look like he was staring. But then he was staring. Exquisite cheekbones, coffee colored hair, and then came the kicker – he turned to Dean and looked at him with those eyes, sharp and engrossing, and gave him a kind smile.

He tripped over his words. “H-hey, I’m Dean.”

The boy smiled again and held back a laugh. “Hello, Dean. I’m Cas.”

“What are you in for?”

“I, uh, accidentally hit a car in the parking lot, and even though it’s not a lot of damage, I was told to come here? The shop teacher, they gave me a slip and said I didn’t have  _detention_ , but would be punished enough by sitting through it. Or something along those lines. I was confused. _Am_ , confused.”

Rhonda made an  _oooo_  noise and giggled. The shop guys sent him to Dean to get mangled.

Dean’s face built to a rage-y red. He breathed in deeply. He breathed out slowly, releasing all his rage in small measured increments of words through gritted teeth. “How…hard…was this car… _accidentally_ …hit?”

“Just…bumper. It’s a long car. Seems to be overcompen –”

A hand slapped over his mouth. Rhonda. What a savior. “First of all, you can’t blame the length of the legally parked vehicle when it’s your job to see it when driving, right?” Cas nodded. “Secondly, there is no overcompensation happening. Trust.” She looked up at Dean through her eyelashes and smiled. “Cas, this is Dean. You hit his Baby. And I’m sure you’ll be punished. Have fun.” She returned to her seat, Mr. Barnes cautiously watching to make sure things weren’t getting to out of control.

“You…” Dean’s fists were tight, his knuckles white while he tried to come up with a calm solution. “You will help me fix my car.”

“I don’t know anything about cars,” Cas protested.

“Well, here’s lesson one. Nobody hurts Baby.”

“Baby’s your car?”

“Yes. Lesson two, we’re going to do right now. Mr. Barnes,” Dean said as he looked to the front of the class. “Can I take this kid to fix  _my_ car that  _he_  hit?”

“Seems like fair punishment to me. Afternoon, boys,” he said, gesturing for them to leave.

Cas was frozen to his seat.

“Let’s go, Gomer Pyle.”

“Why would he call me –” his question was directed at Rhonda, who just pursed her lips and shook her head no, motioning for him to turn and follow Dean.

Three hours later the two were on their backs under the car. Two days later they had fixed what was broken. One class period later, Rhonda saw two pairs of feet under the car nearly interlocked and she knocked on the hood, wishing the boys a good weekend.

By the time Monday came around, Cas knew something about cars. But mostly, he knew  _a lot_ about Dean. 


End file.
